


Journey Home

by andrasstaie



Series: To Ajir, With Love [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Humor, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4559772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrasstaie/pseuds/andrasstaie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rosaline Hawke is not having the best day. Or week, for that matter. All she wants is to get back to reality and to not be alone any longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ajir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajir/gifts).



“Sure, Hawke, you stay and handle the giant fucking spider. No big deal, right? After all, you killed the Arishok after he fucking impaled you. Woo, go Hawke.”  Rosaline grunted as she wrenched her dagger from the already stinking flesh of the now deceased Nightmare. “Bloody, Maker-damned…” she began to mutter under her breath. Stepping away, she looked around for something to wipe the black goop off her daggers. Something,  _anything_ other than her own clothing. But alas. Fade. Nothing useful.

“And why is it always spiders?” she continued aloud. “Why can’t it be a cute little nug for a change? Maybe a mabari I can defeat with a few stern words?” She sighed. Resigning herself, she wiped the gunk off her blades on her pants with a curl of her lip and then sheathed both daggers.

Setting her hands on her hips, Rosaline looked around again. She huffed out a sigh, still the same. Unbelievable, really. The Inquisitor seemed quite capable, the warden too. Yet here she stood. Alone. In the middle of the Maker-forsaken Fade.  _They could have at least helped._

Letting her hands drop, Rosaline trotted over to the nearby ledge, peering over. Nothing but a black abyss with no end in sight. Not even water like they’d passed on the way here. She turned around, eyes scanning her surroundings again. There  _had_ to be some way out of here.

Far off in the distance, Rosaline could see something bright and shiny. She squinted. “That better be a bloody rift,” she muttered, heading off in that direction. Luckily,  _away_ from the unending black abyss. She didn’t care what the crazy witch had said, she was  _not_ going to go around leaping into unknown depths of abyssal blackness. Not for all the fucking tea in Orlais. Not that she even knew if Orlesians liked or drank great quantities of tea. Bad analogy.

With the big ass spider dead and gone, the trek to the shiny spot in the sickeningly green sky went by rather uneventfully. So uneventfully that she’d quickly grown tired of playing “I spy” with herself. Not even one demon tried to come by for a chat.

“ _Maker_ , this better be worth it.”

As time passed, Rosaline began to think of all the ways she could earn her revenge for being left behind without so much as a “hey, you sure you don’t need help?”. Not bodily harm, of course - or at least nothing excessive. Just enough to irritate the Inquisitor. Maybe the warden if he’d stuck around. A few well placed pranks would do the trick. She was certain even Varric would be happy to assist. What were friends for, after all?

Friends. Rosaline shivered. She missed them now, more than she had before. Being alone…  _Maker_ it was worse than being trapped in the Fade. No one to talk to, no one to joke around with. No one to hide behind if something did decide to jump out at her. And worst of all, no one to compete with on kills when things did jump out of nowhere. This was the Fade after all. It had to happen at some point, right? No less likely than the damned mercs always jumping from rooftops at her in Kirkwall.

Finally, and Rosaline really couldn’t say how long it had taken, she arrived close enough to the shiny object to see it was, indeed, a rift. “Thank the Maker,” she murmured. Looking around again, she assessed her surroundings. Her eyes scanned over the area, looking for a way to get  _to_ it. She pursed her lips, tapping on her chin in thought when an idea struck her. With one problem. Rosaline squinted around. She needed rope. Or… something.

“Oh no.” She rubbed her forehead, pinching the bridge of her nose a moment later. “Everyone always asked me: ‘Hawke, why do you keep all those torn trousers you pull out of the trash?’ Well, how about for times like this? You know, so I don’t have to tear up my own clothing and run around stark naked in the Fade? Things like that. Dammit.”

With deft fingers, she began to unbuckle her cuirass, cursing under her breath the entire time. “Come with us to Adamant, Hawke. It’ll be fine, Hawke. Nothing crazy ever happens to you.” More strings of muttered curses emanated from her lips as she continued. “Why in the bloody blazes did I think this many buckles was a good idea? Now I know why Fenris kept bitching about it. Shit!”

Just frustrated enough, she tore at the last one until it released and she was able to slide it off. Sucking in a breath, she began to tear at it just enough to form something that could possibly be called a rope. But it wouldn’t be long enough. She growled and yanked her tunic up over her head and continued with the same process until she was certain it was long enough.

Pulling an arrow from her quiver, she tied off one end of her makeshift rope. The other she tied somewhat loosely on her bow. “Aim don’t fail me now,” she murmured, knocking the tied off arrow. The first shot missed and after pulling the arrow back, she tried twice more where it didn’t lodge into the rock face.

“Andraste’s tits, come  _on_!”

Finally,  _finally_ her final shot lodged as she wanted to. Untying the end from her bow, she gave it a gentle tug, the arrow twitched but didn’t otherwise budge. She slung the bow back over her shoulder and stepped closer to the edge in front of the open rift.

“Well, here goes nothing. Been nice knowing everyone.” Not that anyone was around to hear her. She sucked in one final breath, quelling the fluttering nerves in her gut as she took a running leap. Rosaline could feel the arrow’s hold weakening under her weight as she swung for the rift. As luck would have it - as it often seemed to for her, somehow - the arrow held just long enough to get her over the rift.

She fell through, and kept falling. And falling, then…  _splash_. “Oh, shit,” she managed to burble before she broke the surface of the water. Kicking her legs, she made for the surface. She gasped for breath the moment she broke it, flipping her hair out of her face in the process. Panting a little as her heart rate settled, she looked around. Storm Coast. Convenient. Sort of. Now to figure out how to get out of here. And find Fenris. More than anyone else, she _needed him_ right about now.

The process of getting out of the water and to a habitable part of the Coast was far more effort than Rosaline cared to admit she was hoping for. Though after a while she reasoned getting dumped in the middle of the water - as fucking  _cold_ as it was - had to be better than getting dumped into a pile of sharp rocks. Or perhaps surrounded by rabid wolves. Or in the middle of someone’s dinner.

 


	2. Chapter 2

She sat in the encampment of the Blades of Hessarian. It took only a passing mention of knowing the Inquisitor for them to immediately become accommodating. They’d brought her a hot drink of some kind. At the very least, though, it smelled okay and tasted decent enough to stomach. She sat wrapped up in a blanket, shivering against the chilly air on her still damp skin. Food came soon after she’d finished her strange drink, and a spare set of clothing.

“Thanks,” she murmured to the young woman who had dropped the food and clothing off, flashing a weak smile. Setting the plate of food down, she let the blanket drop in a heap at her ankles as she stood. She quickly stripped off her wet clothes and set about putting on the dry ones, seating herself back down with the food once she was warm and dry again. Relatively speaking, of course.

Some time later, a loud caw overhead caught her attention. She looked up, smiling to see a familiar red ribbon trailing from the raven’s ankle as it swooped down to her. She untied it, and the note attached to it, gratefully returning the bird to the man who’d allowed her use of it. As her eyes scanned over the scribbled letters, they slowly widened in her surprise. Fenris was at Skyhold? Well damn if something wasn’t convenient for a change. Twice in a row!

Tucking the message and ribbon into the first pocket she could find, Rosaline thanked her hosts again before heading out to find the Inquisition camp. The Blades had spoken of one nearby and she hoped they’d have some sort of better transportation than her own two feet. Why walk if she could con someone into a free ride?

By the time she stumbled into the scout camp, however, Rosaline was exhausted and ready to collapse. The soldiers helped her into a tent, where she promptly did collapse and slept for the next… shit, Rosaline wasn’t even sure when she awoke. And, suspiciously, none of the soldiers wanted to tell her how long she’d been out. What they did tell her, however, was that the Inquisition had sent along a horse for her to use on the trek back to Skyhold. And that, for Rosaline, was enough to make up for the supposed grievances against her.

It took a week. A fucking traumatizing week of being alone, thirsty, and hungry enough she could eat a dragon. Food and water came slowly to her on the trek. Water being easier, of course, but the unbearable hunger making it difficult to focus on important things. Such as drinking water even if she was more hungry than thirsty. That got worse, however, when she crossed into the Frostbacks. At which point Rosaline tried, tried so hard, to convince herself shewasn’t going to stoop so low as to eating the snow. And yet an hour or two later, she was sliding off her steed to shovel greedy mouthfuls in.

“Oh mighty Champion of Kirkwall, tell us what you’ve done lately,” she lamented to herself. “You know, saved the Inquisitor and all the Wardens. Stopped a demon army singled handed. And oh yeah, I’ve been eating and drinking weird shit for the past week and a half. Or more. How long has it been?”

Her horse nickered in reply, but Rosaline just huffed and remounted. “Come on. I want to get there so I can have words with the Inquisitor. Namely ‘you’ and ‘fucking’ and ‘asshole’.” She continued grumbling to herself until she slumped over, exhausted again. Even the looming, and oddly welcoming, sight of Skyhold in the distance did nothing to stir her. Nothing more than an under-enthused “yaaay” escaped her parched lips.

The final trudge to the gates of Skyhold, past the encampment of the whispering soldiers, felt longer than ever. Longer than the swim back to shore, longer than the fall from the rift, and certainly longer than the time she spent in the Fade. Rosaline was certain. What she was not certain about, however, would be the welcome she would return to. Preferably a parade. With lots of frilly cakes. And liquor. Oh, there needed to be lots of liquor. She licked her lips at the mere thought.

All her wildest and craziest dreams, however, could not have prepared her for the welcome that awaited her. Guards shouted above to raise the gate and alert the Inquisitor. “This is not a good start to my grand return parade,” she muttered, sleepily, hunched over as her horse walked forward.

There was a flash of white, movement just beyond the gate that caught Rosaline’s attention. Crystal blue eyes widened to saucers at this sight that didgreet her when the gate cleared and she pressed forward with her mount. Standing just inside, looking about ready to leap for either joy or anger out of his own skin was Fenris. Rosaline’s mouth dropped open and she was hopping off her horse before even reigning it in for a halt.

A surge of energy crashed through Rosaline’s body as she flung herself into the elf’s arms. He made an awkward, tittering sound as tears welled up in his eyes. Strong arms wrapped around her as he pulled her in close. Rosaline, herself, shook as overjoyed sobs racked her body. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, clinging desperately to him as if he’d vanish in an instant.

When she found it within herself to release him, she leaned back only slightly. Only enough to look at his face, to lose herself in those forest green eyes. Moments passed and she leaned closer again, their foreheads touching. A couple muffled jeers rose up from somewhere beyond the gate into Skyhold. With Varric and Isabela teasing and egging them on. They both ignored their friends.

“I am never leaving your side again, Hawke,” Fenris whispered, his voice a low and husky rumble.

Rosaline cupped his cheek, happy tears still rolling down her face. “Good, because I never want to be alone again.” Their lips met in a fierce and desperate kiss and Rosaline continued to cling to Fenris, never wanting to let go of him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Rosaline belongs to ajir! ♥


End file.
